In frames black-and-grey.
The haze descended, smoggy;
Suddenly to-day was to-be.
The Shade licked the doorways testily,
Walking the same path we left for the light:
Giving texture to the monochrome backdrop.
The miasma of night-blind devotees,
Tethered to the wake of Her trailing certainty,
Traded for vision,
Carving a trail away from the seen:
The burning fervor of conviction illuminating the vicinity.
The light, narrowed by hidden hallways,
Erased the horizon but gave light to those things made-to-take and near-at-hand.
For their fate is drawn to the outline of a Truth crafted: